


Yoga

by callme_jen



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callme_jen/pseuds/callme_jen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Korsak, unbeknownst to himself, becomes instrumental to the uniting of Jane and Maura.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yoga

              The female temperament was a baffling thing, he thought to himself, with the conviction of a man of three marriages. Contrary to present appearance, Vince Korsak was, in his youth, a strapping young lad. He was blessed (as young men with big muscles often are) with no scarcity of female companionship, and over the years he liked to think of himself as becoming rather acquainted with the mindboggling perplexity that was the female range of emotion. It wasn’t the kind of acquaintance that involved comprehension, but rather a sort of resigned acknowledgement that it did in fact exist, and he might as well get used to it – quite similar to the way you would acknowledge an annoying relative. And just like annoying relatives, the female range of emotion in its most tumultuous manifestations tended to give him a headache.

             Right now he his temples were throbbing with deadly force.

             “Tell _Jane_ –” even amidst the cerebral pounding he could feel the intensity of Maura’s glare on his face, and wondered if they were leaving any scorch marks “- I need her report on the Johnson case. _Oh, unless she’s going to be taking that back too_.”

             “Well, tell _Maura_ , that I _will_ give her my report, and I _won’t_ be taking it back. I made photocopies,” said Jane. It was a terrible comeback, but she managed to deliver it with a tone of perfectly obnoxious self-righteousness, seemingly under the impression that the manner of delivery was more important than the content of the argument itself.

            Korsak could almost feel them vibrate with restrained fury. All this vibrating and glaring being exchanged between them was making the morgue feel several degrees warmer than usual. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. All he did was walk in before finding himself being used as an intermediary between two ticking time bombs.

             One of the ticking time bombs stormed out, presumably to blow up somewhere where there would be no risk of human casualty.

             Korsak looked at Maura, who seemed in the process of defusing now that Jane was gone. Her shoulders fell as the tension left her body, and her face ceased assuming the appearance of an angry bulldog. He tried to convey - by manner of raising his eyebrows - surprise, bewilderment, and a demand for explanations. “What was _that_ about?” asked Korsak’s eyebrows.

             Maura, however, was either not very receptive towards the communicational uses of eyebrows or was otherwise feigning ignorance. “Korsak, was there something you wanted to see me about?”

             This time he resigned himself to vocal communication. “What was _that_ about?”

             Maura shuffled uncomfortably. “It’s…it’s nothing.”

             “Nothing?” He briefly considered employing criminal interrogation techniques to squirrel out whatever she was hiding. This was immediately dismissed as he acknowledged that he respected her too much to stoop to such methods. More importantly, he didn’t want to inspire Maura - a woman intimately familiar with dead bodies and the cutting open of them - to use her professional knowledge on him. “Didn’t look like nothing to me.”

             More shuffling. “Well,” she sighed, “Jane and I had a little…disagreement.”

             “About…?” Korsak’s eyebrows were so now high up that they appeared to be competing for space against his receding hairline.

             “Last night, after you and Frost left…”

             It seemed to be a reoccurring ritual for Korsak, Frost, Jane and Maura to spend their evenings after work at the Dirty Robber upon solving a particularly tough case (it was almost disturbing, bearing in mind that they worked in the Homicide Unit, just how often these evenings occurred). Last night Frost had to leave early on account of having to meet a special lady friend, and Korsak had to leave early on account of his IBS – although the official reason was that he had errands to run.

             Maura sighed again. “…after you left, Jane told me something. Something big. Something I’ve been…” she paused, searching for words. “Something I’ve been waiting to hear from her for quite a while now.”

             “Uh, what did she tell you?”

             “She told me she…she told me she l-loved…” Maura made a strangled noise, as if unable to speak.

             It took all of Korsak’s self-restraint to refrain from taking her by the shoulders and shaking the answer out of her.

“Yoga,” Maura managed to squeak. “She told me loved yoga.”

“Uh…”

             “She told me loved yoga and she took it back this morning. Told me it was a mistake. She didn’t really love yoga, she just loved the idea of yoga.”

             Asking a woman about her problems, Korsak decided, is a bit like intentionally breaking down a river dam. All you have to do is tentatively chip at the floodgates, and brace yourself for the tide.

             Maura’s tide was taking a while to recede. “It’s not love, it’s just a passing infatuation,” she said, in what she probably thought was an imitation of Jane’s voice. “It wouldn’t work out with yoga. She hasn’t been _practicing_ yoga, not since college anyway. And even then she’d just been dabbling. And she can’t _be_ with yoga–” by now Maura’s voice had acquired a slightly unhinged quality “– because Angela wants grandkids. As if Frankie and Tommy are planning on staying celibate!”

             His headache returning with greater intensity, Korsak could barely make out what she was saying. In any case, Maura was done anyway. She had stopped abruptly, and was starting to take deep breaths in rapid succession.

             “Maura, are you okay? Are you…hyperventilating?”

“What? No, of course not,” she gasped between breaths. “I’m, um, heading to my office. Thanks for letting me, uh…thanks.”

             Korsak rubbed his temples as he watched Maura Isles hastily leave the morgue.

***

            Korsak slapped Jane on the back and plopped down on the seat across hers. “Hey. Thought I’d find you in the Dirty Robber. You know, lunch hour ended two hours ago.”

            Jane groaned in reply, and helped herself to a generous swig of beer. There were already a few empty bottles on the table, Korsak noticed.

            “Jane…”

            “What?” she asked sullenly.

            “Maura told me what happened.”

            “Oh my god. What did she tell you?”

            “Uh…” he said, as he struggled to comb the dusty archives of his memory. There was quite a bit of talk about yoga, he remembered. “That you told her something very important, and then took it back?”

            “Oh my god,” she said again, and slumped onto the table. “Kill me now.”

            “What, and pass the chance to see Maura do it herself? I don’t think so,” he chuckled.

            Jane looked up to glare at him. And then she sighed. “I really fucked this one up, didn’t I?”

            “Aw, Jane…you can’t force yourself to love something you don’t feel anything for. I’m sure once she calms down, she’ll understand that. But you know, you really shouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it.”

            Jane’s head was buried in her arms. She mumbled something incomprehensible.

            “Sorry, what was that?”

            “I _did_ mean it,” she mumbled a bit less incomprehensibly.

            “Then why did you take it back?”

             “Oh, god. Haven’t you ever loved something so much it scares you? Scares you into holding back? I’ve never felt this way for anything before. Scares the hell out of me, man.”

            Korsak thought that this was a bit of an overreaction. Nobody should be this enthusiastic about an activity you performed in sweatpants. Nevertheless, he was a good friend, and he told her to tell Maura about how she really felt.

             “I can’t. She hates me now.”

            “No, she doesn’t. I promise you, she doesn’t, and she won’t. Just tell her what you told me.”

            “You think so?”

            “I do.”

            “Shit. You’re right,” she said, suddenly shooting up from her seat. “I gotta go tell her.”

            Korsak rubbed his temples as he watched Jane dash out of the Dirty Robber.

***

            He was walking towards Maura’s office, needing to run a few reports by her. He hoped she was a bit calmer by now. As he approached, he noticed that her door was slightly ajar. There were odd mewling noises coming from within the office. He peeked in.

             It took him a while to register what exactly he was watching. Jane and Maura were sprawled on the floor, in a tangle of limbs and hair. Korsak was jubilant. It was obvious to him what had transpired: Jane had apologized and professed her love of yoga – this time without revoking it– and Maura, accepting this wholeheartedly, invited Jane to a spontaneous yoga session. And they didn’t hold back - they stripped to almost minimal attire, their clothes strewn over floor or furniture. They also participated in a sort of odd, periodic chanting that seemed almost erotic.

             He retreated slowly, unwilling to intrude on their moment of reconciliation. After a moment’s thought, he closed the door quietly behind him. Someone might overhear them and mistake their chanting for something more sinister than yoga. 

             He shook his head as he walked away. The female temperament was a baffling thing – this he conceded to with the conviction of a man of three divorces.

  



End file.
